


si vis amari

by Wiegenlied



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, same age AU set in Tom's time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiegenlied/pseuds/Wiegenlied
Summary: The life of Tom Marvolo Riddle changes one fateful summer evening before third year when he meets Harry Potter, who has come to the Magical Menagerie in search for a familiar.No one could truly fathom just how much.





	si vis amari

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Im_A_Panda__Rawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Panda__Rawr/gifts).

> This one's for you, Dani. Your infectious energy, your thoughtful words, and your endless love 💕 I hope this story is something you enjoy!! 
> 
> Special thanks to the incredibly lovely [Bina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina) for beta reading ✨
> 
> Edit as of July 26, 2020: Thank you for all your support and excitement for this AU! Initially, I listed this fic as an ongoing, multi-chaptered fic. However, I have since thought more on this AU and where I want to go with it. As this 'chapter' was written as a one-shot, I've decided that the best description for this would be that it is complete. I hope to revisit this AU some time again in the future, and will probably make a new series for it if I do! (*´︶`*)♡

“I don’t want a barn owl, mummy!” the dreadful, pig-like child screeched. “I want an _eagle!_ An eagle, an eagle, an EAGLE!”

Tom took a subtle, deep breath, gave himself a moment to ensure his eyelids weren’t twitching anymore (unfortunately, they still were) and gave his most charming smile to the child, and then its parent. “I’m sorry, the only animals for sale are the ones you can find in store,” Tom said. He ignored the distinct huffing and disappointed tuts coming from the mother as he continued. “Would you like to have a look at some of our other animals? We have a wide selection of felines, amphibians, serpen-” 

“If you can’t give my little sugar plum the companion he desires,” the mother sniffed, “Then we won’t be conducting business here any longer.”

Tom seethed internally, wondering why she had wasted the past forty-three minutes of his time in that case.

She strode out of the shop, calling after her obese, snivelling child imperiously in a final display of … power? pride? Tom didn’t care, so long as she left with her child in tow.

But when the boy looked back and sneered, sticking his tongue out at Tom before leaving- well. The nasty, wordless, and painful jinx sent the ungrateful brat’s way was entirely deserved, in Tom’s opinion. 

* * *

When his second year had ended, Tom had made his case with Headmaster Dippet. He had laid out all the facts, shared the morbid details of his situation back at the Orphanage, had pleaded and asked for sanctuary at Hogwarts. 

Dippet had said no.

Dumbledore - the suspicious, barmy old coot - had however, quite surprisingly, suggested an alternative.

The offer was this: for the two months of summer holidays, Tom could stay in the Wizarding World … for some time. To do so, he would have to be employed at the Magical Menagerie, where Dumbledore was willing to make arrangements with the owner, Gideon Carne, for an upstanding student like Tom, where he would be paid meager wages for a day’s work.

‘It won’t be much,’ Dumbledore warned. ‘But it’s something you are free to consider.’

The only downside? Tom would still have to return to Wool’s, he seethed, everyday for every night in order to sleep. Because Tom is still a _child,_ yes, a child with no one to claim his guardianship, to _want_ to take responsibility for him.

Never mind that he is smarter, more clever, quick-witted, the most cunning of all the snakes in his year. Never mind that he has proven time and time again that he _deserves_ his place at Hogwarts in Slytherin. 

After humiliating himself in front of Dippet and Dumbledore, after baring his weaknesses for them both to see - he would still have to be faced with the constant, lurking, overwhelming fear of bombs, of fire, of _screams and decay-_

It wasn’t ideal, Tom knew. But it was the only option he had.

* * *

Three more weeks, Tom told himself as he continued stocking the shelves towards the back of the Menagerie. Three more weeks, and then his third year would begin. Three more weeks, and he would be back at Hogwarts. Three more weeks, and he would have saved enough to buy robes that were just his.

No more second hand. No more having second best. 

No more being a filthy, rotten, _freakish_ good-for-nothing _mudblood-_

Tom’s back immediately straightened as the door chimed, signalling another customer had just walked in. His snarl slid off his face within moments, his roiling emotions calmed and contained, allowing him to make his way towards another potential customer (alongside their nightmarish child). 

“Welcome to the Magical Menagerie,” Tom said. “What are you looking for today?”

* * *

As Tom began preparing to wrap up things for the end of the day, something decidedly odd took place. 

The final few customers were ambling their way in before the shop closed for the day, children eagerly pulling their parents and pleading with them to buy a pet. Tom had returned to his stocking duties, this time towards the front of the shop, while Mr. Carne attended to the newcomers. He had just been putting in the feed for the kneazles when he felt a tug at the back of his shirt. However, when he turned to look behind him, there were no customers there. The only thing that stopped him from returning to his task was the soft voice that spoke up.

“Excuse me,” it said. “Can you help me?”

As his gaze followed the voice down, Tom found a small child of four, at most five years of age looking up at him. A polite, quiet child, which was such an anomaly after his previous weeks of experience at the Menagerie that he paused, giving the boy a more thorough look. His head, covered with tousled, windblown hair the colour of coal, reached Tom’s waist. His cheeks still retained the baby fat of younger years, tinted rosy from the chill the afternoon had brought in. The child was dressed in Gryffindor colours, a red sweater made of a soft material (Tom could tell with merely a glance) with moving gold accents paired with matching dragonhide boots of the finest quality.

So, a wealthy child.

Most importantly, a wizarding child. One Tom would benefit from behaving well with.

Tom didn’t recognize the facial features from any in the Slytherin house, so the boy’s family must belong to one of the other three. He pieced together the last dredges of his patience and brought out his charming persona (with much difficulty, because by Merlin, he was tired after working 10 hours straight with only a lunch break in between). 

Tom knelt down before the child, coming face to face with bright, inquisitive, vibrant green eyes of the most remarkable hue. “Hello,” he said. “What are you looking for?”

The boy brightened, his previous uncertainty melting away as he smiled at Tom. “I’m looking for a friend,” the boy confessed. “Dad told me I’d find the best ones here, but I don’t know where to look.”

Tom glanced towards the front of the shop and spotted the child’s mother, perusing the shelves of owl feed while occasionally peeking back to keep track of where her son was in the store. Unfortunately, her appearance didn’t give any clues for the boy’s lineage either. As far as he was aware, the only purebloods with red hair hail from the Weasley clan, but the boy’s hair was dark as night. Alas, on to other matters. “Well, it depends on what you’d like from your friend. Do you want something small or large? Something that’s fast? Something that’s clever?” Tom asked.

The small child shook its head, dark curls moving from side to side, sooty lashes lowered in embarrassment as the child whispered something too quiet for Tom to hear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” Tom said, tilting his head down to try and catch the child’s gaze. “Could you repeat that?”

The boy shuffled his small feet for a moment, chewing on his lips in distress for a moment longer before rushing out in a single breath, “I want a friend that will like me for me and will protect me and won’t think I’m a freak.” The boy froze, small mouth widening in surprise at his own words, before determinedly continuing forward. “Is there someone like that?”

The pieces then fell into place.

No pureblood would ever be treated this way amongst his own kind or the lesser masses. 

Not a pureblood, no. This boy was a mudblood, or a half-blood at least.

Like him.

Unknowingly, this revelation caused Tom’s icy interior to soften, just a bit. This boy understood, in some way, what it was like to not belong. To want for… friends.

Though Tom now understood that friends were pointless, useless, and pathetic to desire. To have admirers, followers, acquaintances- yes, that made more sense. 

Alas, Tom had discovered this after two years of ‘special’ treatment from his own housemates in Slytherin, so it made sense that this small child didn’t understand the subtleties, the sheer intricacies of human dynamics yet. But Tom could share a taste with him, yes. It was rare for him to find someone that was similar in any regard.

If anything, it will prevent another child from having to go through what Tom had.

Tom reached forward, and gently tugged a lock of unruly dark hair. “I can find you someone like that,” Tom began. “But it won’t solve your problem, not truly.”

At the boy’s curious look, he continued, “There are plenty that can give you the affection and companionship you so desire, but it won’t stop other people from thinking you are worth less than the dirt beneath their feet.” At the boy’s stricken expression, Tom murmured, “It won’t stop you from being an outsider.”

Tears welled up in those big, bright green eyes as the boy processed what Tom was telling him. A single tear slid down one soft cheek as the boy whispered, “Then what am I supposed to do? If I can’t find someone, how are things going to change?”

The quiet hopelessness in the boy’s voice forced Tom to remember the beginning of his second year. His beautiful, pretty snake that had the sleekest scales he had ever seen.

Her carcass, laid out on his pillow the next morning.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the traitorous, tightening sensation in his throat. _'Never again,'_ he thought to himself. _'I will never again be among the weak.'_

“By being the change yourself,” Tom whispered back. He tapped one long, pale finger to the boy’s chest, beneath the small hollow in his neck. “By proving to everyone else that you don’t need them, nor do you care for their words. Because the only one that matters, in the end, is you.”

_ The only one you can rely on is yourself. _

The boy’s small nod, his stubborn green eyes, and his gentle taking of Tom’s hand into his tiny one was all the response Tom needed.

* * *

What wasn’t needed was the child’s gentle but firm insistence that Tom follow him to the front of the store where his mother was still checking the shelves, now considering the selection of reptiles that the Menagerie held. He led Tom by the hand, small and soft hand tightly gripping his as the child weaved past any of the other customers that came in their way. 

“Mum,” the child called. “I found what I was looking for!”

The redheaded lady smiled fondly at her son (and Tom could confirm it now when he saw that they shared the same unique eye colour), although a single brow quirked upwards when she noticed their linked hands. She addressed Tom with a chuckle. “Harry seems to like you quite a lot, I see. What did he pick out?”

So the boy’s name was Harry. A simple name, not special or unique in any way. A common one, that plenty of Muggles and wizards alike could be called. 

Like Tom’s.

Tom mustered up another smile for the (mudblood? half-blood?) lady, offering her a slight bowing of his head before shrugging. “I apologize, miss, but little Harry hasn’t picked anything from the Menagerie yet.”

She laughed, the sound bell-like, as she waved her hand negligently. “None of that ‘miss’ business, just Lily is fine.” She turned to Harry a moment later in confusion. “Harry, then what did you find?”

Harry beamed up at his mother before pointing a small finger at Tom with his free hand. “I found my friend.”

Tom’s heart, quite suddenly, stopped.

A beat, two, three passed before Lily burst out laughing, subsiding into giggles when she noticed Harry’s pout. “Harry,” she finally managed to make out, a few giggles still slipping out. “When we brought you here to pick a friend, we meant an animal as your familiar. Not a living, breathing person.”

Harry frowned, small brows scrunching together as he stepped in front of Tom, as though he was hiding- no, protecting him?

“You told me to find the friend I liked best. Dad told me to find something that would protect me and that I wanted to protect. I looked all over, Mum. He’s the smartest, the coolest, and the bestest of all the things here,” he said. “And I want to protect him most of all, Mum.” 

Tom brain chose this moment to unfreeze, which was the only way he was able to catch Lily’s concerned look. She seemed to search for… something, in Tom’s gaze. A moment later, she must have found it because her whole demeanor changed from amusement to that of understanding.

“I didn’t even ask for your name, how silly of me,” she said. 

Tom was quiet for a moment before responding, albeit with a little uncertainty. “Tom Riddle.” He added a quick “Entering third year this September.”

Lily beamed at him, before asking where his parents lived. 

When Tom told her he was an orphan, she was distraught in her sympathies.

When she realized this meant Tom lived in muggle London, with the constant threat of aerial strikes as a result of the muggle war, she didn’t hesitate to excuse herself, step outside, and call James over. 

She looked back once more before leaving the shop to see Harry, her sweet, darling little boy smiling for the first time that day. Looking happier than he ever had in ages. She raked her gaze over the tired, thin boy with the haunted gaze who looked at Harry like he was the brightest person in the room.

There were plans to be made.

* * *

Inside the Menagerie, Tom looked down at Harry, glancing pointedly at their joined hands. Harry peered up at Tom, his long lashes framing his bright, solemn eyes, and his small form and chubby face filled with stubborn determination.

“I’ll protect you, Tom,” the boy vowed. “You don’t have to depend on yourself anymore. We can,” and here the boy mumbled, cheeks pinking as he said, “We can rely on each other. I swear on my honour as a Potter. And - and a Potter always protects what’s theirs.”

The little boy nodded determinedly as he spoke, gaze pinned to the floor in thought which made him miss Tom’s expression which betrayed the unfurling sensation in his chest.

What was happening?

The door to the Menagerie chimed once more as Lily and her husband walked in. “Prongslet,” the man sighed, exasperatedly fond. “Only you would walk into a pet store and decide to walk out with a person instead.”

“Now now, James,” Lily interrupted, bumping shoulders with him as she came inside. “We have to make the offer to Tom first before saying that.”

James sent a besotted smile his wife’s way before entwining his fingers with hers. Harry giggled at their actions as Tom continued to blankly stare. 

Lily stepped forward, gently taking both of Tom’s hands into her own. “What do you say, Tom? How about having dinner with the three of us tonight, and we can talk about an idea that I had,” and here she chuckled, looking down at her son, “Thanks to Harry?”

Years later, if anyone were to ask Tom the reason for his agreement, he would say it was the connections the Pureblood name could provide, the wealth that would be at his disposal, or the prestige that would inevitably come from his choices.

But there are very few to which Tom would reveal the most important reasons.

His agreement was the result of the soft squeeze of a small hand in his own, a conversation shared between two strangers on a late summer evening, and the vow made by a child whose greatest desire was to find someone worth protecting and calling his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, kudos and comments are very much appreciated (*´︶`*)♡


End file.
